Fickle Visions
by Phoenix2013
Summary: After the acid attack Cordelia has to find a way to keep going. And Fiona has to find a way to keep some very honest and unusual thoughts to herself. She has to make sure that Cordelia never discovers them. Not through her visions nor through any other gift, but sometimes the mind has a mind of its own.


**Just two weeks ago I had no idea about American Horror Story: Coven. I totally fell in love with Sarah Paulson. I couldn't stop after the first few episodes! ****After Coven I watched Asylum and boy, I'm no horror fan but I got hooked on Sarah as Lana Winters. Such a great actress. **

**Anyway, the other day I listened to Poets of the Fall's song **_**Sleep.**_** Somehow the lyrics of the song and Cordelia's story from Coven connected and a scene came alive in my mind. I just had to put it into words and get it all out of my system. **

**This takes place around the fifth episode "The Axman Cometh", after Cordelia comes home from the hospital. **

**I don't own American Horror Story. ****No copyright infringement intended. **

* * *

**Fickle Vision**

Cordelia lay in her bed, her burning eyes closed, not daring to move. Her head felt like it would explode. Every movement hurt. Just like every thought.

She wanted to shut her mind; she didn't want to feel or think anything. She didn't want to feel the searing pain the acid burns caused in her eyes and on her skin. She didn't want to remember her own screams from the attack that still reverberated in her ears, even though it had been days ago. Fiona's screams had been even worse when she had finally gotten a look at her burned face. Cordelia had never heard Fiona mother scream like that, a mixture of outrage, panic, pain and disbelief.

Cordelia had no idea how the injuries looked like, but she knew it wasn't pretty. Still, she didn't have time to dwell on it. Her appearance seemed unimportant now compared to all the other disturbing things she had been made aware off in the meantime.

She was blind but still had more clarity than ever. Delia almost laughed out loud at the irony of how her blindness made her now really _see_ for the first time in her life.

But Cordelia didn't want to like this.

Because all she _could_ see now were those images, those visions in her mind of things that brought too much pain, that showed her too many truths, truths she had overlooked, maybe even knowingly ignored before.

She still reeled from the experience in the hospital when she'd had her first vision. Her husband had only touched her hand and the images of his betrayal suddenly ignited and coursed through her like liquid fire. At that moment she hadn't quite understood what happened, she had been too sedated to fully grasp what flooded her mind.

Now she knew what had occurred.

She had been given the 'sight'.

However her now physical blindness had caused this spiritual sight to manifest itself, it wasn't a gift she'd asked for. It now meant that she had to shy away from any physical contact with other people when she was so dependent on it in her current state. When she was so desperate to be held. She wanted to be consoled and to be told that everything was going to be all right.

Instead, at the touch of her husband's hand she found he had betrayed her with one of her protégées. Instead, at the touch of her mother's hand she had found that Fiona had caused the one person who had actually treated Delia like a real daughter to be burned at the stake. Cordelia's heart ached for Myrtle Snow, the woman who had given her the love her real mother had always denied.

In the short time she had been home from the hospital, Cordelia had seen betrayal, pain and death wherever she turned. How could she have been so ignorant before?

No, Cordelia had not asked for this, had not asked for this 'gift'. But now it was hers and she had to live with the blackness in front of her eyes and the vivid, uncalled-for images in her mind. Her reeling, useless mind. She wanted to hit her head against the wall to make those visions disappear.

Instead, the pain in her eyes and on her skin caused her to lay as still as possible. The burning sensation it didn't even allow her to find solace escape in sleep.

She felt her brain wrap around some words, words that she had no idea of where they came from.

_Hear your heartbeat  
Beat a frantic pace  
And it's not even seven AM  
_

_You're feeling the rush  
Of anguish settling  
You cannot help showing them in  
_

_Hurry up then  
Or you'll fall behind and  
They will take control of you  
_

_And you need to heal  
The hurt behind your eyes  
Fickle words crowding your mind  
_

Why just now these song lyrics popped into her mind, she had no clue. But these words were so fitting, weren't they? Except, there would be no healing taking place, neither behind her eyes nor in her mind. Nothing could bring her out of this personal hell.

She took a deep breath and suddenly felt a presence in her room.

Someone was there.

Cordelia heard the person breathing. And before she dared to ask who it was, her nostrils picked up the distinct smell that she always associated with Fiona. A slight trace of her perfume, cigarette smoke and alcohol tickled her nose.

Curious. How long had she been there?

Cordelia wondered what time it was, but she didn't want to alarm her mother that she was awake. She was just not up for another confrontation with Fiona. Not now. _Especially not now_. Maybe it was a blessing that she couldn't see these piercing eyes anymore. The eyes that cut like daggers right through her every time her mother delivered one of her verbal blows.

Her mother.

Her fucking supreme witch mother who couldn't even manage to sooth her daughter's pain or heal her eyes with her fucking super magic. But even if she could, Cordelia doubted Fiona would have done anything to help her.

This was the ultimate humiliation she had to endure, wasn't it?

At least, before the attack the young witch had been physically capable to keep up an appearance, to practice some magic, to stand upright and keep her dignity, however small it had become over the years.

At least in front of the girls, the household staff and Fiona she had been able hold it all together, to reign it all in. But now – now she had to fumble around for everything, she had to measure every step, had to ask for help for the most basic things, feeling even more ridiculous and incapable than ever in front of her mother.

Fiona would love every stumble, every misaimed grasp that ended in empty air. She'd have a ball watching Cordelia fail and fall over and over again.

The girls now wouldn't have to hide their annoyed looks anymore they gave each other. Not that they had made a good job of it before. She knew they didn't always agree with her idealistic standards. Still, Cordelia didn't want to give up on teaching them that they could use their magic for making the world a better place for their kind.

Suppressing a sigh, she had no idea how and where she should get the strength to go on. She felt completely drained. She was nothing anymore. And these fucking visions did nothing to help her.

Why her mother just didn't push her down the stairs, Delia didn't know.

Then it dawned on her.

This was convenient.

Fiona could still use her somehow for the coven, but never had to be afraid that Cordelia would try to become a danger to her position as the supreme in any way.

Not that she had ever wasted a though on becoming a supreme. Cordelia didn't want that position. She had enough responsibility at her hands trying to reign in the four young witches; however she would manage that now.

The blonde witch let out a soft breath. Wallowing in self-pity didn't help. If fate had dealt her this fucking card, she _would_ deal with it.

She needed to stay strong, if not for herself, then for the girls. They might not have known it, but they needed her. Now more than ever. Blind or not, she was still the headmistress of the school and the girls where her responsibility.

So just like all the other countless times before, she would steel herself, she would stand up again and she would try to do everything to protect this coven. This task got so much harder now without her physical sight, but somehow Cordelia would find the strength and the means to carry on.

Unbeknown to Delia, her mother secretly admired her for this determination.

Cordelia forced herself to lay still. Any movement hurt like hell.

That comparison almost made her laughed out loud. She had not only gone through and emotional hell fighting for her mother's approval all her life, now she also felt that hell burning in her eyes physically.

How very fitting.

Her mother would love that analogy.

** -o0o0o0o- **

Fiona sat on a chair next to the bed. She hadn't dared to scoot closer to the sleeping form that lay before her. She felt she had to keep her distance, a physical distance that resembled the emotional distance she had held all those years.

The older witch had always held her daughter at arms lengths, never letting her come close, never letting her into her heart. But not matter how hard Fiona had fought it, Cordelia had always held a special place in her heart from the first day she was born.

She was her _daughter_, after all. Of course she loved her. In her own way.

But the reigning supreme loved her position and the power it brought just as much. Cordelia had been a gift; but as much as she had been a gift, she had become a threat at the same time. And Fiona had known early on that she would remove anyone or anything that would scratch at her throne. There was a possibility that Cordelia could grow into the next supreme of the coven. That was the only thing that Fiona truly dreaded in her life.

Cordelia had no idea how much Fiona feared her own daughter's strength and what danger that meant for her. If Fiona saw under any circumstances that Delia's powers grew stronger while her own where weakening, she would have to stop her, she would have to possibly kill her own flesh and blood.

So the supreme started defending her rank right from the first day the little girl had lain in her arms. She tried to keep her daughter's spirit small, never showing her how much she was worth, never let her find her own strength. The royal blood that was cursing through Cordelia's veins was stronger than any potion she could concoct and the girl just wasn't supposed to find that out. Ever.

With time, Fiona's tries to dampen the rising spirit of Delia became crueler and harsher. She humiliated her in private, she humiliated her in public. No matter where, when or how, no opportunity was wasted.

More often than not she saw how her daughter broke inside when another insult hit home. What Fiona hadn't counted on was that every time a part of her own heart broke as well.

But to save her daughter from her, Fiona had to continue to destroy that proud and noble spirit that was so different from hers.

Where Fiona succumbed to temptation, Cordelia held on to her ideals. She had always had more strength and an almost eerie unwavering inner power to defend her principles. In that way, Delia was more powerful and way stronger than Fiona. That force with which she held on to her standards was a trait that would have made Cordelia a much better supreme. That and her actual witch powers that she kept under the lid way too often for the sake of "playing by the book".

Fiona would never be able to tell her daughter all these thoughts. She had to be even more carful that Delia never 'saw' those specific visions that conveyed these feelings. And there was one more thing. Under no circumstances was Delia to become aware of what had happened in the hospital when Fiona had revived that baby. When she had made a mother take her still born girl into her arms and urged her to say special words of love to her dead child.

That had been the only time and the only way Fiona would ever confess her love for her own daughter. Putting those words into the other woman's mouth was as close as Fiona was letting herself admit her love for Cordelia.

"Hold her, she's your daughter. You have to keep them close. So they feel safe. Come on, talk to her. Tell her 'I love you more than the whole world.' 'You're the most beautiful baby'. Tell her how beautiful she is. 'You're so beautiful'. Now say 'I'll never leave you! I'll be your mother until you die.'"

While the other mother whispered those words, Fiona breathed life back into the dead child.

All these beautiful words – she had never been capable of saying them to her own daughter. Her strong, beautiful daughter.

Fiona knew that even though being robbed of her eyesight, her girl would carry on. She would not sit in a corner and whimper. Cordelia would draw upon that inner source that Fiona had never succeeded to deplete completely.

In a way Fiona admired the stubbornness with which Delia had always carried that inner conviction that their powers were to be used for good things and not for selfish gains.

But it was so much easier to use those powers for your own good, to manipulate people, to turn everything into your own advantage, Fiona thought. She wondered if now, after everything that happened, Cordelia would still carry that hope for the good or if she would give in and drift to the dark side.

Fiona doubted that her daughter had any idea of how strong a witch she could be, no matter which side she was on. But that was nothing Fiona had to worry about anymore. Fate had taken care of that. Cordelia was out of the question for the ultimate position now.

In the dark room, her gaze crept up Cordelia' barely visible naked arm, over her shoulder, along the long and slender neck, traveled further past the pale, smooth skin of Cordelia's chin and stopped where Fiona knew it turned into a mottled red and blistered surface around the eyes. Her gorgeous child, so disfigured and in so much pain.

No matter how hard she tried, Fiona could not come up with an answer to the question as to who had thrown the acid in Cordelia's face. Most of their peers suspected Fiona to have ordered the attack. But she would never hurt Cordelia that way. Never physically. She would never have disfigured her like that. She would much rather hurt her emotionally, where it left scars you could not see. Those scars reached deeper than any flesh wound could.

Ironically, Fiona also felt a kind of strange relieve now that it this terrible attack had happened As if a burden had been taken away from her. Her daughter was alive, she was still functional and once the burns healed, she would still look ok. But she would never be able to become a reigning supreme. Her blindness prevented her from that.

The reigning supreme could relax now and direct her rage against the people who had planned this assault against their coven. Fiona was no fool. Even though Cordelia was the actual victim, figuratively they all had been attacked.

She would have to try to stay close to her daughter in her vulnerable state. As close as Delia would let her after all these years of psychological abuse. At that moment Fiona wished she could ease the pain in the eyes of her daughter, in her body and soul.

Almost irritated Fiona wondered where that softness came from all of a sudden. Was it her own illness that caused these motherly feelings to well up? Was it the cocktail of medication they had pumped through her veins?

Not being able to completely wipe those maternal concerns away, Fiona wished she could reach out to her daughter with her thoughts at least, if touching her was not an option.

One special thought of consolation she would grant Cordelia willingly if she knew how to project it into her daughters head. Fiona's mind turned full circle to a song she remembered from long ago. The words seemed so apt.

_Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in  
Like waves of sweet fire, you're safe within  
Sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in  
And carry you over to a new morning  
_

** -o0o0o0o- **

Cordelia almost gasped when she heard her mother's voice utter those words. So that's how she had stumbled across the lyrics earlier. Either her mother had already recited them before or – or she had read them in her mother's mind.

As she lay there in the dark, listening closely, she noticed that Fiona hadn't raised her voice. But she kept hearing her in her mind.

_Try as you might  
You try to give it up  
Seems to be holding on fast  
_

_Its hand in your hand  
A shadow over your  
A beggar for soul in your face  
_

_Still it don't matter  
If you won't listen  
If you won't let it follow you  
_

Good Lord!

Was she becoming a second Nan now? Wasn't it already enough that she received those damn visions by touching people? Did she also have to read people's minds now?

Again her brain picked up the words where her ears only noticed the regular breathing to her right. And when she expanded her mind to the other rooms, there was nothing she "heard" either, from none of the other women.

Why could she hear her mother's thoughts? And why just those words and nothing else?

Despite the splitting headache, Cordelia was intrigued.. She let the words wash over her.

_You just need to heal  
Make good all your lies  
Move on and don't look behind  
_

_So, sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in_

_Like waves of sweet fire, you're safe within  
Sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in  
And carry you over to a new morning  
_

_Day after day  
Fickle visions  
Messing with your head  
Fickle, vicious  
Sleeping in your bed  
Messing with your head  
Fickle visions  
Fickle, vicious  
_

_Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in  
Like waves of sweet fire, you're safe within  
Sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in  
And carry you over to a new morning  
_

There was a pause in the stream of thoughts and Cordelia didn't hear anything else. Not in her mind, not with her ears.

As much as she tried, she didn't receive anything else from her mother. Was Fiona aware that she could "hear" this? Was this a new trick her mother had learned in her old age? Cordelia wasn't sure. Otherwise the older woman would have protected herself earlier that day against her daughter's visions. Fiona could probably not consciously direct or control the projection of her thoughts. As powerful a witch she was, that seemed beyond her.

After a moment, the chair to Delia's right scraped softly and a rustle of clothes alerted the younger woman to her mother's movements.

"Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in…and carry you over to a new morning."

A soft whisper, barely audible caressed Cordelia's ear. It came from higher up than the rhythmical breathing before. Fiona seemed to be standing up, a little closer to the bed.

Then there was another rustle of fabric and the sound soft footsteps towards the door. No heels. Her mother seemed to have taken her shoes off before coming to her room.

Cordelia turned her head ever so slightly to follow the silent footsteps around her bed.

Shortly before reaching the door Fiona seemed to stop. The young woman envisioned her mother turning to look at her, though Delia could not imagine with which expression. She was sure that her mother didn't know that she had heard Fiona's thoughts or the quiet whisper from before.

The ghost of a smile grazed Cordelia' full lips, hoping the shadows in the room were deep enough to hide it.

Fiona opened the door quietly. The lamp from the hallway spilled a soft light across Cordelia's face that was slightly turned towards her. And that was the only thing Fiona needed to see.

Mirroring her daughter's expression when slipping out the room softened the deep lines on Fiona's face and the hard look in her eyes for a moment.

* * *

**The song is called "Sleep" from Poets of the fall.**

**If I get any more inspirations, I'll continue this. I think there is still a lot left unexplored with Cordelia and some other characters of Coven. I especially hated seeing Misty Day die. Lily Rabe was great in that role. And as Cordelia said in one of the scenes, they made a great team…**

**Apologies to all who are waiting for an update on A lazy day and who might be disappointed at me posting this non-Faberry fic first. I promise, it will come!**


End file.
